THE MAN'S POINT OF VIEW
A deep peace reigned in the library at Gleneesh.Garth and Deryck sat together and smoked in complete fellowship, enjoying that sense of calm content which follows an excellent dinner and a day spent in moorland air.
Jane, sitting upstairs in her self-imposed darkness, with nothing to do but listen, fancied she could hear the low hum of quiet voices in the room beneath, carrying on a more or less continuous conversation.
It was a pity she could not see them as they sat together, each looking his very best,--Garth in the dinner jacket which suited his slight upright figure so well; the doctor in immaculate evening clothes of the latest cut and fashion, which he had taken the trouble to bring, knowing Jane expected the men of her acquaintance to be punctilious in the matter of evening dress, and little dreaming she would have, literally, no eyes for him.
And indeed the doctor himself was fastidious to a degree where clothes were concerned, and always well groomed and unquestionably correct in cut and fashion, excepting in the case of his favourite old Norfolk jacket.This he kept for occasions when he intended to be what he called "happy and glorious," though Lady Brand made gentle but persistent attempts to dispose of it.
The old Norfolk jacket had walked the moors that morning with Jane.
She had recognised the feel of it as he drew her hand within his arm, and they had laughed over its many associations.But now Simpson was folding it and putting it away, and a very correctly clad doctor sat in an arm-chair in front of the library fire, his long legs crossed the one over the other, his broad shoulders buried in the depths of the chair.
Garth sat where he could feel the warm flame of the fire, pleasant in the chill evening which succeeded the bright spring day.His chair was placed sideways, so that he could, with his hand, shield his face from his visitor should he wish to do so.
"Yes," Dr.Brand was saying thoughtfully, "I can easily see that all things which reach you in that darkness assume a different proportion and possess a greatly enhanced value.But I think you will find, as time goes on, and you come in contact with more people, there will be a great readjustment, and you will become less consciously sensitive to sound and touch from others.At present your whole nervous system is highly strung, and responds with an exaggerated vibration to every impression made upon it.A highly strung nervous system usually exaggerates.And the medium of sight having been taken away, the other means of communication with the outer world, hearing and touch, draw to themselves an overplus of nervous force, and have become painfully sensitive.Eventually things will right themselves, and they will only be usefully keen and acute.What was it you were going to tell me about Nurse Rosemary not shaking hands?""Ah, yes," said Garth."But first I want to ask, Is it a rule of her order, or guild, or institution, or whatever it is to which she belongs, that the nurses should never shake hands with their patients?""Not that I have ever heard," replied the doctor.
"Well, then, it must have been Miss Gray's own perfect intuition as to what I want, and what I don't want.For from the very first she has never shaken hands, nor in any way touched me.Even in passing across letters, and handing me things, as she does scores of times daily, never once have I felt her fingers against mine.""And this pleases you?" inquired the doctor, blowing smoke rings into the air, and watching the blind face intently.
"Ah, I am so grateful for it," said Garth earnestly."Do you know, Brand, when you suggested sending me a lady nurse and secretary, Ifelt I could not possibly stand having a woman touch me.""So you said," commented the doctor quietly.
"No! Did I? What a bear you must have thought me.""By no means," said the doctor, "but a distinctly unusual patient.
As a rule, men--"
"Ah, I dare say," Garth interposed half impatiently."There was a time when I should have liked a soft little hand about me.And Idare say by now I should often enough have caught it and held it, perhaps kissed it--who knows? I used to do such things, lightly enough.But, Brand, when a man has known the touch of THE Woman, and when that touch has become nothing but a memory; when one is dashed into darkness, and that memory becomes one of the few things which remain, and, remaining, brings untold comfort, can you wonder if one fears another touch which might in any way dim that memory, supersede it, or take away from its utter sacredness?""I understand," said the doctor slowly."It does not come within my own experience, but I understand.Only--my dear boy, may I say it?--if the One Woman exists--and it is excusable in your case to doubt it, because there were so many--surely her place should be here; her actual touch, one of the things which remain.""Ah, say it," answered Garth, lighting another cigarette."I like to hear it said, although as a matter of fact you might as well say that if the view from the terrace exists, I ought to be able to see it.The view is there, right enough, but my own deficiency keeps me from seeing it.""In other words," said the doctor, leaning forward and picking up the match which, not being thrown so straight as usual, had just missed the fire; "in other words, though She was the One Woman, you were not the One Man?""Yes," said Garth bitterly, but almost beneath his breath."I was 'a mere boy.'""Or you thought you were not," continued the doctor, seeming not to have heard the last remark."As a matter of fact, you are always the One Man to the One Woman, unless another is before you in the field.
Only it may take time and patience to prove it to her."Garth sat up and turned a face of blank surprise towards the doctor.
